A Short Story
by HyperGinger
Summary: Summary: Volkner's been waking up early every morning to go for a run. Flint isn't terribly interested in joining him...until he sees what Volkner wears for the occasion. Ignitionshipping humor and smut.


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* * *

"Mmph." Flint groaned as a bit of jostling woke him from his slumber. His eyes opened blearily when a soft voice spoke to him.

"Ah...sorry, Flint. Didn't mean to wake you." Volkner leaned in to kiss his lips softly in apology. He then slipped out of bed and started stepping lightly away.

"What're you up to?" Flint slurred.

Volkner cocked an eyebrow. "I'm going for a run, just like I do every morning." When Flint just blinked heavily in confusion, Volkner smiled. "I should know better than to try and explain things this early. Your brain won't be awake for another few hours," he joked.

Flint's eyes dragged sluggishly to the digital clock at his bedside. He just barely registered the numbers, which read "5:00 am." He only managed a perplexed sound at his discovery.

"Flint, go back to sleep. I'll be back in a while, and I'll wake you up when breakfast is ready, okay?" Volkner grinned and ruffled Flint's hair gently, and then he shuffled over to their shared drawers to sift through his clothing. For his part, Flint sat up, leaned back against the headboard, and stared off into space. He considered Volkner's behavior for a moment.

Of course he knew Volkner went running these days. As his groggy brain cleared and caught up, he reflected on all the progress his boyfriend had made. Previously, he'd always stayed up late working on his electronics, and he slept in like Flint did. When he woke up, he still looked tired, as if he could never get enough rest no matter how much he slept. He had even started losing his appetite, and his pallid complexion and skinny frame worried Flint. Volkner seemed to move in a daze, like he was detached from his surroundings. And his smile? Gone. Nowhere to be found.

That was, at least until two months ago.

Well, technically it was two months, three days, and—Flint glanced at the clock again—about twelve hours. Flint would never forget the day Volkner had come home, dashed through the door, and immediately grabbed Flint's shoulders to start gushing about some trainer he'd just battled from Twinleaf Town. The battle was electric, he'd said. The trainer's Gliscor had all but swept him with Earthquake, he'd said. Flint hardly heard him, enamored as he was by the exhilarated smile that had returned to Volkner's face at last.

It wasn't just Volkner's mood that improved. He cut back on fiddling with his electronics and started sleeping at more decent hours instead, only to find that waking up early felt natural to him; it turned out he was an early bird after all. The bags under his eyes disappeared to make way for a healthy glow when he made a habit of running in the mornings, and he got into the daily routine of humming a tune while making them both a hearty breakfast of waffles, scrambled eggs, or pancakes—far more substantial than the rushed bowls of cereal they'd been accustomed to in the past. Before long, Volkner had a healthy amount of meat on his bones again. Sure, he was still slim, but it was in a good way; he didn't look like he was wasting away anymore.

And it was certainly a plus that Volkner's libido had been...healthier lately. Flint could still remember the night when the fire returned to Volkner's eyes. After they'd finished dinner, Volkner was upon him immediately, scrambling into Flint's chair to straddle him as he ran desperate fingers through his hair and kissed him until they were both breathless. He went on to take Flint in every room in their house that night. Granted, they lived in a small cottage, so they only had four rooms, but Flint still had a sore throat and a pronounced limp for several days after that. It was well worth it. He let out a fond sigh at the memory.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

Flint jumped when Volkner called to him, an amused smile on his lips.

"Oh, I wasn't! I—" Flint's sentence was cut off as a gasp got stuck in his throat. His eyes slid down to Volkner's apparel—or lack thereof, in this case.

Volkner's torso was clothed in a normal black tank top, but his lower body was covered—barely—with the shortest pair of shorts Flint had ever seen on a man. They were barely skimming the tops of Volkner's thighs, and they were fairly tight on his hips, though still loose enough around his legs to allow some breathing room for movement. Flint let his gaze slide downward along the length of Volkner's long legs, down to where the tops of his socks just grazed his ankles under his running shoes. Volkner either didn't notice his boyfriend's staring or didn't care, instead choosing to turn and head over to the desk that held all their Pokéballs. He released his Jolteon, Luxray, and Raichu, but Flint hardly noticed because he was preoccupied by the slit on the side of the dark blue shorts that ran so high up on his thigh that it had to be a sin.

"You okay, Flint? You can go back to bed, you know," Volkner reminded him, cocking his hip.

Flint stuttered for a moment before jabbing a shaky finger at the shorts and blurting, "What are those?!"

Volkner looked down in confusion, and then he looked back up and rolled his eyes. "Flint, don't talk about my Pokémon like that."

"Not them!" Flint groaned. "Those...things! What are you wearing?!"

Volkner looked back down at himself. "Oh, you mean these?" he replied, tugging at one corner of them. "They're dolphin shorts. Haven't you ever seen them? People run in these all the time."

Flint just kept staring incredulously, so Volkner sighed. "Do you want to come with us, Flint?" A squeak was heard next to the Volkner as his Raichu immediately straightened up in excitement and wagged his tail at the idea, and Jolteon and Luxray let out interested noises as well.

"Uh..." Flint gulped. He weighed his options, considered the shorts—which would undoubtedly become an embarrassing distraction—and came to the conclusion that despite temptation, his day would almost certainly go much more smoothly if he simply lied down and went back to sleep.

He was about to do just that when Volkner started stretching in preparation for the run. He placed one foot in front of the other and leaned his weight forward, increasing the stretch and tensing the muscles of his calves. Flint's eyes glazed over a bit as Volkner repeated the process for the other leg, which pulled the shorts higher on his thighs to expose more of his taut skin. "What do you say, Flint? You coming with us or not?" Volkner stretched his arms above his head, making his tank top rise to reveal where his hipbones were just barely concealed.

"Yes," Flint responded automatically. He cringed at how eager his voice sounded.

At this response, Volkner gave a winning smile. "Great. Now get changed so we can leave before the beach gets too crowded!" With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Flint's head hit the headboard with a dull _**thunk.**_

_How do I get myself into these messes?_

* * *

_Okay, Flint. You got this,_ he thought to himself as he donned a loose-fitting pair of red basketball shorts. He pulled on his own yellow tank top and glanced in the mirror, feeling proud at what he saw. Flint didn't do much running, but he had to admit that his lifting really did pay off. He ignored his lower body, choosing to keep his gaze on his chest and arms instead, as he had a bad habit of skipping leg day. Still, he knew the toned muscles of his upper body looked especially good in a tight tank top. He smiled as he confidently opened their bedroom door and strutted toward the front door. _Keeping up with Volkner is gonna be a cinch. The guy's a twig! He's...he's...oh, fuck me._

Changing had allowed Flint to gather himself for a little while, but the effort was immediately wasted when he spotted Volkner, who was once again stretching by the door. This time, though, it was even worse.

Volkner's feet were flat on the floor, and he was bending down to easily reach his toes—with impressive flexibility, Flint's brain informed him. Volkner was facing away from him, allowing Flint a full view of where his shorts were pulled higher than before, revealing the backs of his creamy white thighs to Flint's hungry eyes. The muscle tone there and in his tensed calves was undeniable at this point; Volkner was no twig, that was for sure. Flint could just see a bit of Volkner's ass cheeks at that point, and he almost moaned at the sight. He bit his lip.

Flint's ruminations were interrupted by a soft, inquisitive noise from the man in front of him. Volkner spread his legs so he could see Flint from in between them in a pose that Flint would have found comical if he weren't so turned on. Volkner smirked at him. "Hey! What took you so long?"

Flint didn't even try to respond, preoccupied as he was with stifling a whine. With Volkner bent over with his legs spread like that, he was practically begging for it. All he had to do was grab Volkner's hips and...

Volkner flipped right-side up again and turned halfway around. Flint once again noticed the slit that climbed halfway up Volkner's hip, showing far more skin than was strictly necessary. Then, a pair of fingers made its way into Flint's face and brought him back to earth with a loud _**SNAP.**_

He flinched. "What?"

Volkner's smirk softened a bit in concern. "I said, are you okay? You're as red as your hair right now. You don't have a fever from getting up this early, do you?" he joked. When Flint just sputtered in response, Volkner threaded his fingers into Flint's hair and gently pulled their foreheads together. "You do feel a little warm, but that's normal for you...still, the offer stands if you want to stay home and go back to b—"

"NO!" Flint snapped a little too quickly.

Volkner flinched back at the sound and laughed a little. "Suit yourself, but you're gonna roast in those shorts. Even at this hour, the beach is hot," he pointed out, slipping a finger into Flint's waistband and tugging at it lightly. Flint had a slight internal meltdown at the move, small though it was. "You should get shorter ones, like I did."

At this, Flint cracked a wry, slightly manic smile. "You really think I could pull those off the way you can?"

Volkner smiled. "For the record, I like your legs just fine." He wrapped his arm around Flint's waist and kissed him gently, then spoke against his lips. "Even if you do work on other parts of your body more."

Flint shrugged and smirked his cocky grin. "I look best in baggy pants anyway. It works with _the look."_

Volkner rolled his eyes, unimpressed, and opened his mouth to tease Flint about his so-called "look" when the two of them were interrupted by an impatient bark just outside the door. "That must be Jolteon. I had the Pokémon wait outside. Are you bringing any?" he asked, turning the doorknob so they could greet the waiting Pokémon.

"Nah. None of them are early risers...except for Magmortar, which I blame on you."

Volkner grinned proudly. "Well, I did raise him. What can I say? I'm a good influence."

"That's debatable," Flint joked as they started walking, then jogging toward the beach to pace themselves. "Either way, Magmortar isn't much of a runner, so he'll be staying in," he said, patting the lone Pokéball at his waist.

"Probably for the best..." The familiar spark of competition crackled in Volkner's eyes. "...'cause I'm not slowing down for anyone." His Pokémon made noises of agreement.

The pace of their jogging began to increase as the light in Volkner's eyes fired Flint up, too, and he matched Volkner's smirk with his own. "Don't worry. You won't have to."

* * *

_Okay, maybe I spoke a little too soon._ Flint was proud of himself for keeping up with Volkner and his Pokémon for the first few minutes, but when Volkner said he always went _running,_ he was not exaggerating. There was no power-walking or light jogging involved in the event. It wasn't long before Flint's lungs were struggling for air and his limbs felt like they were dragging through jello. He panted loudly and obnoxiously, but Volkner offered him no sympathy, just as pristine as when they'd started, no perspiration in sight.

As out of shape as he was, Flint simply couldn't keep up, and he was soon trailing behind the others. This was a problem—not just because he could practically feel Volkner sneering in triumph—but because the view it afforded him was starting to become a problem as well.

From Flint's position about eight feet back, he had a perfect view of Volkner's backside. He'd thought the shorts made his ass look good even standing around or bending over, but those positions were nothing compared to his movements now. Every stride made Volkner's thighs push his cheeks up and out and back and forth in an enticing cycle, emphasizing its roundness and allowing for just the right amount of bounce. Flint imagined how it would feel in his hands, soft and shapely, with just the right amount of firmness and substance underneath. He knew the texture very well; it just hadn't been flaunted to this extent to him before.

The same could be said for Volkner's legs, too. He'd seen them plenty of times, but by the time Volkner's pants were off, Flint usually had other priorities. He knew first-hand that Volkner didn't actually shave his legs, but from this distance, the light hair was no longer visible. The smooth skin of his thighs disappeared under the hem. Volkner's repeated movements shifted the shorts to show teasing glimpses of what was underneath. The tendons of his strong legs flexed with every footfall, and Flint's knowledge of how they felt in his hands whenever he spread them soon left him flushed and panting for reasons other than exertion.

Flint huffed and shifted, subtly trying to position himself in a more comfortable position within his own shorts. He secretly wished he'd taken Volkner's advice and worn a more form-fitting pair. He'd never experienced his current predicament while running before. Then again, he'd never run behind Volkner before, especially not while the man was wearing short shorts. A cramp made itself known in his side with a sharp sting, and he silently lamented the injustice of being saddled with pain, fatigue, and an inconvenient erection all at the same time.

With the steady, unrelenting pace of a machine, Volkner continued to leave him in the dust. He briefly turned around to face Flint, casually jogging backwards to taunt him. "We're only halfway there, Flint. Don't tell me you're ready to burn out on me already!"

"Hey! I thought we agreed that fire puns are _my_ thing!" Flint called back, feeling his competitive nature flare up in his chest again.

Volkner shrugged and smirked at him before taunting, "I wouldn't have to do it if you could keep up with me, _hotshot."_

Flint gasped, affronted. "Now you've done it. I'll show you who's _hot stuff."_ Within seconds, a second wind rushed through his veins, and he pumped his legs faster in pursuit.

As he turned back around, Volkner shot back, "Now you're just _blowing smoke."_ He stuck out his tongue.

Flint glared and picked up the pace, ignoring the way his muscles protested in response. _How the hell does Volkner do this every day?! Exactly when did he get so fit..._ At that thought, Flint's eyes unstoppably slid back down to settle on Volkner's toned legs once more. This time, though, something else caught his eye.

At first, Flint couldn't tell what it was. The slight discoloration of the spots on Volkner's inner thighs seemed innocuous at first glance. Flint squinted for a few more seconds until the realization dawned on him. His eyes shot wide open, and he hastily slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp. There, in plain sight for all to see, were the hickeys Flint himself had left on Volkner the night before during their intimate activities. As an Elite, Flint felt obligated to maintain a professional image. Hickeys didn't really fit with that image, so Flint purposely left his marks in places he knew no one would see. Given that he and Volkner were a well-known and well-loved couple in the region, however, anyone who cared to hazard a glance in that direction would know exactly whose mouth had been between Volkner's legs last night. The thought should have made Flint feel scandalized and concerned, but in this context...somehow, the way Volkner was proudly displaying the evidence of their sexual relationship only made him feel dirtier, causing a renewed stirring in his pants.

Flint's lungs burned. Even on the soft sand, his feet pained him with each stride. He carelessly allowed his mind to drift inevitably further into fantasy to distract himself from the pain.

From five feet behind Volkner, Flint smirked. Volkner could act superior all he wanted out in the open like this, but Flint comforted himself with the knowledge that he himself could be the dominant one in private whenever he felt the urge. No one knew Volkner as well as Flint did, and he took pride in the way he could reduce the normally stoic gym leader to a wanton mess at the drop of a hat.

He took a look around the beach, which was deserted this early in the morning, and his eyes fell upon the wide, flat, waist-high wooden posts of a sand fence that ran along the beach. Flint thought he faintly remembered his grandfather mentioning the way the structure protected against erosion or something along those lines, but the knowledge was buried when he thought of another use for the posts. His gaze drifted back to Volkner, whose head was held high with pride while his hips swayed enticingly with every stride. Flint's face spread into a smirk as his imagination dove right into the gutter. Volkner wouldn't look so smug if Flint dashed forward to grab his hips and pull him backward into his arms, muttering what he wanted to do to him and biting one of his sensitive ears. He'd feel Volkner's body shudder and a gasp escape his throat as he was pulled flush against him to feel Flint's erection pressed against his ass, proving just how much Flint wanted him.

With Volkner's limbs shaking from desire, it would be easy to lead him over to one of those wooden posts and bend him over it. Volkner would hold himself up with his hands, only to collapse onto his forearms when Flint gently pressed down on his back with his strong arms. Volkner's spine would be arched and his body bent in a suggestive pose, presenting himself to Flint, who would finally rip off those damn shorts and immediately grope and squeeze his ass, enjoying the soft but firm feel of the cheeks in his rough hands. Flint would let out a low groan at the aroused whine that left Volkner's lips at the rough treatment. After removing his own shorts, Flint would grip Volkner's ass again and continue to feel him up while leaning forward and whispering into his ear, "Tell me how much you want me."

Volkner panted at the feeling of Flint's hardened length pressing against his backside. "H-hah...fuck...please..." He struggled to speak the words as one of Flint's hands slid down to slip teasingly between his thighs. "Fuck...I want it so bad...fuck me! Please..." Hearing Volkner beg made Flint lose control at last, and he buried himself deep inside of Volkner. Flint had to stop for a minute to keep himself from coming at the tight, warm sensation around his dick and the hoarse, pleasured noise Volkner let out at the penetration. After a moment, he pulled out and pushed himself back inside. Unable to restrain himself, he repeated the motion, rocking Volkner's shivering body harder with every passing second. Volkner moaned louder each time, and Flint admired the way Volkner's fingernails dug into the post underneath him from the intensity of his thrusts.

Flint knew he wouldn't last at this rate, and Volkner's reactions made it clear he was close to the edge as well. Flint dug his nails into Volkner's hips and took control, pulling him back rhythmically to match his own pace. Volkner cried out at the move and arched his back in response. His submissive display made Flint throb inside of him. Volkner barely managed to gasp out, "Flint—!" before a shiver wracked Flint's body and he cried out, "I'm gonna—"

Then, the fantasy's inevitable climax morphed abruptly into the sensation of falling as Flint was dragged unwillingly back into reality just in time to catch a mouthful of sand as he landed face-first onto the ground. "Oh, come on—OW!" His lament was cut off as a sharp pain erupted in his big toe. He furiously looked down at his foot, only to find an irritated Krabby pinching his toe with one of its claws. It hissed and began to skitter away.

Flint scrambled into a sitting position. "Oh, HELL NO! You're not getting away that easy!" He fumbled and grabbed the lone Pokéball at his waist, throwing it hastily and snapping, "GO, MAGMORTAR! USE SOLAR BEAM!" The large Pokémon landed in the sand with a dull thud. The tiny crab panicked and tried to flee as Magmortar's arm cannons glowed briefly, then blasted an immense beam of light, hitting the Krabby head-on and launching it halfway across the beach. Magmortar pumped one of its arm cannons in the air in triumph, and Flint cheered from where he was still sprawled on the ground. "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET!"

"Was that really necessary?" Flint gulped and turned his head to see Volkner tapping his foot and raising an eyebrow in disapproval. Luxray and Jolteon mirrored his look of disappointment, and Raichu looked concerned. "You're the one who tripped over it in the first place. Poor thing was probably just defending its territory."

Magmortar looked down shyly, and Flint scratched the back of his head and gave a sheepish smile. "I, uh...kinda got carried away? Sorry..."

"You should have apologized to the Krabby, not me." Volkner shook his head, but the corner of his mouth curled up a slight bit despite his best efforts, forming the expression he always showed when he wanted to be mad at Flint but could barely contain his laughter. "I'd make a joke about YOU being crabby, but you're really more of a Slowpoke." His grin challenged Flint once again. "We're almost there. Think you can keep up?"

_No. _"Are you kidding me? I'm just getting warmed up!" He jumped up to try and dash forward and back up his bluff, but the second Volkner turned around to run the rest of the way back home, Flint's inappropriate thoughts rushed back stronger than ever. _Okay, so that last idea was a __**little**__ outlandish...Volkner isn't **that **wanton, and we don't even have lube...Oo, maybe if I left his shorts on and went between his thighs..._

He caught himself and nearly groaned in frustration. _Yup. Today was absolutely a mistake._

* * *

Volkner held the door to let all of his Pokémon inside, followed by a haggard Flint, who immediately fell face-down onto the carpeted floor of their living room. "UGH," he grumbled eloquently, having given up on pretending he was in shape enough to handle the exercise. A foot gently rolled him over onto his back, and his eyes snapped wide open to see Volkner standing above him with flushed cheeks from the workout and a proud smirk, one leg on either side of him. He feebly tried not to look up Volkner's shorts to catch more of his toned inner thighs—marks and all—but he didn't have the willpower. The sight was easily worth the smugness Volkner was emanating. By that point, Flint had even given up on hiding his erection.

"How long have you had a fetish for short shorts?"

Flint sighed in defeat. "It's not the shorts, it's who's in them." Volkner smiled wider, and Flint's eyes narrowed. "When did you notice?"

"Immediately. The exact second you laid eyes on me. I've basically been teasing you this entire time." Flint's head rolled back in exasperation. He closed his eyes, but he could still tell how wide Volkner's grin was when he said, "You know, Flint, if you ever want to fuck me when I'm wearing these, you'll need to have more energy by the end of the morning."

Flint's lungs screamed at him at the very thought of more running. He tilted his head back up and squinted. "Is this your way of getting me to do more cardio?"

"Maybe." He gently pushed Flint's head back down by pressing the heel of his shoe to Flint's sweaty forehead, a blatantly dominant move that Flint had neither the energy nor the desire to fight, preoccupied as he was with appreciating the way the movement showed even more of Volkner's skin. "If you'll excuse me, I need a shower. I'd invite you to join me, but you can't even stand up, can you?" He actually laughed this time as he stepped over Flint and walked away.

With that, Flint had had enough. With his last burst of energy, he flipped over and lunged at Volkner, grabbing a firm hold on his shorts and swiftly yanking them to the floor, only to immediately gasp at what he saw.

"Y-you...this entire time...you've been going commando?!"

Volkner scoffed. "Obviously. What kind of underwear could I possibly hide under these?" He strutted toward the shower, unashamed of his naked lower half.

Flint's jaw dropped at the sight, shorts still in hand, before falling limply to the floor for good. _Today __**was **__a mistake, _he repeated. He tried to convince himself he'd be strong enough not to make that mistake again, but he knew better.

End

* * *

Fun fact that I learned exclusively for this story: you're really not supposed to wear underwear with dolphin shorts. There's a built-in liner for that.

Also...I can't believe I have to say this, but PLEASE keep reviews on-topic for the story you're reviewing. People have been hassling me lately because some random stranger I've since blocked reviewed this story, and I'm getting a little sick of getting excited whenever I'm notified of a review or a PM, only to receive harassment for no reason. I worked my ass off to write this. Keep it classy.


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